ReeAySon
by Olivia Doyle
Summary: See, remember when I said I never believed in magic? Notice how that's past tense? That's there for a reason. What would you do if I told you that everything you’ve ever believed in, everything that you’ve ever taken for granted to be fact... was not?
1. Eden of The East

A/N: So here I am, with yet ANOTHER project because I can't help it. Thank you so much to Captain Fantastic for agreeing to beta this. You're my hero. LiveLaughLoveReview.

-Livvy

* * *

I never believed in magic.

Ever.

While my friends made up fairy stories, I read trade exchange ledgers. While my younger brother, Nixil, talked to his imaginary friends, I asked my father's councilmen about matters of state. While other kids toyed with the ideas of Santa Claus putting presents under their respective trees, I outlined to my parents the various reasons the jolly, red-clothed icon could not _reasonably_ exist.

That was the only thing I would ever believe in, I told them, reason; because reason was always... well, reasonable. You never blindly followed-- reason kept a logic-based progression of thoughts, of events, and any other person with half a brain would most likely see things the same way_._

After making this glorious revelation at the age of seven, I attempted to explain my theory to Nix (who was five at the time); but unfortunately, he was (and remains) less enthusiastic about such things as I, which he showed by promptly flinging a pile of horse dung in my face.

Not exactly proper behaviour for the heir to the Kingdom of Cabot, perhaps-- but then again, as much as I have prided myself in my logic and sense, my brother has always found pride in his lack thereof.

Perhaps I should introduce myself. My name is Razia, Daughter of Their Imperial Highnesses, The Emperor Sangara of Cabot and The Empress Aine.

I know, I know--you're kicking yourself in the face right now. You thought I was a boy, huh?

It's all right. Most people do, at first, when they read my correspondence. They think it's strange that a girl is more responsible than a boy, that it's odd that I have more business sense than my brother. That it's not right, it's not _logical. _But that's where most people are wrong, see, where they lose the true meaning and beauty of reason. Just because something is _different_, doesn't mean it's _illogical_. It just means it's unique.

Like me.

However, my brother's disdain for societal restraint and my unusual and unbounded love for logic are not the subject of this story, really.

No, not really the subject at all.

See, remember when I said I never believed in magic? Notice how that's _past_ tense? That's there for a reason.

What would you do if I told you that everything you've ever believed in, everything that you've ever taken for granted to be fact, was a complete and utter falsehood?

What would you do if I told you everyone you loved and trusted had been lying to you about a very large and actually quite essential part of your existence for your entire life thus far?

What would you do if I told you that you could never die?


	2. Fighting Spirit

A/N: I almost named him Roq, but Nixil seemed like a fitting name. In honor of you, mah dea. Thanks so much to the terribly fantastic Captain Fantastic for putting up with my semi-colon fetishes. My hero. Live. Laugh. Love. Review-Livvy

* * *

Most people would be happy, I'm sure, or curious-- perhaps even elated! I mean, really, ... living forever?

I fainted, and when I came to my senses on the cold tile of the throne room floor I was the angriest I'd ever been in my life. How _dare _they keep such a thing from me! It was my life, and although it was strange, there was something oddly comforting about the inevitability of death-- it meant that at the end of the day, no matter what happened, there was only one fate in store for all of us, rich and poor alike.

As a princess, I was already robbed of all privacy and free will; I did what I was told and spoke when spoken to. Was this small comfort to be taken from me as well?

My mother must have seen my grief, for, although my father warned her with his eyes, she kneeled next to me, sighing heavily.

"There are other options... You are not required to choose this. There are people that have refused it and gone on to live a normal life."

I jumped up from where I had been sitting on the floor of the throne room.

"That's what I want! I choose that; let me be that instead--"

"Silence, child! Do not let your anger at us colour your decision. This is not something to be taken lightly."

I looked at my father's face, which was beginning to turn purple, and I began to grow suspicious. He had always agreed with most of my decisions up until now, and even when our opinions clashed he always stated his reasoning. Why the sudden closed-mouth anger?

"Why won't you let me do this? Why are you so adamant about me not making this decision, even if it's what I want?"

I stared at my father, my eyes narrowed, yet my mother was the first to speak.

"Do you think us completely soulless, child? Do you think I wish to see my only daughter wither away in the years to come, only to have to place her underground myself? We have made the choice to be here for time eternal-- I had simply hoped that--" "I know that's why _you _want me to do this, Mama," I said, nodding, "but I'm talking to him." I pointed an angrily shaking finger at my puce-coloured father, and he suddenly seemed to deflate before my eyes, sighing.

"I...I... Nixil cannot know... is not ready... he who rules cannot be of average stock..."

Oh.

_Oh_.

I understood now; I knew that line well. It was from the Great Poem Lissanza, set down by the first king of Cabot, a piece of material we were often set to memorize by our tutors. I had always thought it simply meant that the royal bloodline had to endure_-- _the poetic ramblings of a dotty old man with an intense superiority complex.

Now I understood what it really meant; one must know of our family's.... condition in order to be able to rule. So if Nixil didn't know, he could not make the choice to live forever, and he would not rule. I could see it in my mother's sad face; she had tried to dissuade him, but to no avail. My father was as stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be, and he would hold fast. He did not trust my wayward, fun-loving brother, and so, by doing this, he was binding me to a duty he knew I would not take otherwise, and my brother to his eventual death.

As I realized this, I felt a sudden, pressing weight upon my shoulders, like I would never be free again, and I knew, despite my many unanswered questions, I had to leave that room before I did something I would regret later.

"I understand. Mama, Papa." I inclined my head quickly and fled from the room, still processing my fate.

I couldn't do this! It wasn't my responsibility, it never had been! Nixil might be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but he's got a head on his shoulders; I saw him just the other day planning out a brilliant battle strategy with one of his games. Father just refuses to see his intelligence; he thinks that a boy should be inside studying literature and mathematics, not outside 'cavorting with subjects and tearing about and womanizing like a madman.'

"Stupid old man, doesn't see what's right in front of his face, I don't want t--Oof!" I collided with something warm and solid, but before I could hit the ground a hand grabbed my shoulder and hoisted me up.

"Where have you come from that's got you in such a mood, little sister?" My brother's suave voice asked, amused, and I shook my head, unwilling to look up.

"Come now, it couldn't have been that bad? Did the stablehands accidentally get manure on the ledgers again? Did Myla coin increase in value?" I snorted in spite of my misery, and he laughed in response. Myla coin was the neighboring kingdom's currency, made of an entirely useless metal they called gold. Myla coin was less than a quarter of the worth of the rest of the realm's wooden coin, and for it to go up would mean the world was at an end.

Trust my brother to make light of a dark situation. I sighed.

"I merely had a meeting with our dear father."

"Really? Usually you're in quite a good mood when you come back from seeing him. What, did he get you married off then?"

"No, thank goodness."

"Hmmm. Well what happened then?"

I hesitated, trying to think up an excuse as quickly as I could, but it was no use. My mind was blank.

"Ah, so he's told you you're it then."

I looked up sharply, surprised, but his trademark easy smile was still there.

"Don't look so surprised. I've known for a while he doesn't want me to do the job. I'm quite surprised you didn't figure it out sooner, honestly." His bright blue eyes grew sad.

"I am ...sorry that this has to fall on you. I did try, for a while, but I was not meant for it. I will help you in any way I can... you know that."

I nodded, unable to speak, startled by my rarely serious sibling's sincerity,and the terrible sadness of my father's decision struck me. I was going to watch my brother die, never knowing the chance he could have had... but I could change that. Right here, right now, I could tell him everything, and he would understand, and the burden would vanish from--

"Well, it's time I leave you to your thoughts, I think. Briel and I are taking a hunting trip tomorrow, and I'd best start packing. Do give yourself a little breathing room, Zia-- you don't have to accept your fate just yet."

And with that, my brother strode off towards the stables, whistling quietly to himself; I watched his carefree frame wistfully.

He had been free to choose his fate. In return, mine was given to me.

It was the curse of the firstborn.


	3. Monochrome Factor

A/N: Thank you to my beta Captain Fantastic, you are a hero for putting up with my craziness. Without further ado, ReeAySon! Hoo-Ray!

Disclaimer: I had already written this before I realized I didn't really need it, but since it's here, the credit for the name Nix goes to **Pandemoniumisbestinlargedoses**. It was just a working name, dearie, but I forgot to change and Nixil was just so perfect.

_

* * *

_

_"Our people cannot stave off death much longer, Wendell. The last of the late millet will run out in less than two weeks; Harvest cannot be for another month and a half at least,_ _Lissan willing the weather stays as it is. The children are becoming sick, the women_ _despairing; soon the men will become restless. Go to the king, Wendell. Tell him of the hunger that tears at our bones. He knows the elves do not request charity lightly-- he will come to our aid, as we came to his. Go, child, and be back before the month is out."_

Wendell ground his teeth, staring out at the winding road before him. The horse's trot had long since ceased to disrupt his thinking, and despite it being more than a week since his departure, he saw too clearly the harrowed visage of his father. The words were still etched clear in his mind, overdramatic (as was his father's custom) but still powerful.

It had been two years of deep winters and long droughts in the Southwest Borderlands, and although they had rationed and waited and devised various and clever ways to survive this most difficult of times, their luck finally ran out. Their stores, hoarded for so long, began to dwindle rapidly, and storms began to crash in from the Leaping Lake, halting the planting, ruining the crops and dampening spirits by the villageful.

And now Wendell was here, rushing across a land he knew nothing about to a castle and king who, despite his father's assurance, he knew would not care. The King of Cabot was a decent man, but he was just that-- a man. He would not understand the demands and needs of the elves, and he would not wish to. They were just as foreign to him as the half-mad Rukubriks to the South or the people of Myla to the Northwest .

He would not go out of his way to help them, of that Wendell was certain.

He shivered, the cold breezes shocking him out of his terrible reverie. He drew his cloak tighter around himself, sighing with relief as he turned the corner into a meadow.

He could see the tip of the Leaping Lake--only three more days now, and he would arrive. Maybe then this nightmare could finally be over.

* * *

"So I don't understand how this works... If you and Papa live forever, why bother training me? I mean, really, what's the point in instructing me in the ways of diplomacy if you two can just rule till the end of time?"

They had only given me a day and a half to come to terms with what they would have me do before I began lessons again-- only instead of knitting and embroidery it was tax law and extended lessons from _'The Simplistic Monarch__'_. I had been here all of three minutes and already I was missing the familiar clacking of needles. At least that was brainless.

"Well, darling, I assume we'll be doing it the same way your grandparents did it. When we feel like you've been prepared enough, perhaps a few years after your coronation to make sure you've got a handle on things, we'll exit surreptitiously. Maybe we'll go on a trip and never return, or get taken away by a river, or disappear into the night-- although...that may not be such a good idea. Wars have been started from lesser things."

My mother gave me a sad smile, and a pebble of guilt dropped into my stomach. Her entire family had been killed in the last Overwater war against the Southern Rukubriks-- all slaughtered in a ruthless raid. She had been the only survivor from her tiny village, and by the time father found her, the only one for twenty miles with the strength to stand.

A strong woman, my mother, full of life and wit. I had always wished to be like her, giving smiling advice from the shadows whilst my husband dealt with people and their unpleasantness. Although my father had a temper, he had a certain inborn knack for diplomacy that I lacked greatly-- I wondered if they realized that.

But that dream was gone now. I was to be the one in front, smiling, lying, laughing at jokes that weren't funny and grinning at people I'd loathed since birth.

I'd rather be dead.

"Hush, child. You have work to do, and it needs your full concentration. While you're at it, you can work on keeping your thoughts _inside _your head," she chastised lightly, tapping one of the stacks of documents that were strewn around the giant desk. I sighed.

"I don't even know what half of these _mean_, Mama..." I said, gathering a sheaf of paper in my hand and leafing through it despairingly."Horizontal equity? Continuing appropriations? What the... _applications without modular budgets will require a full, itemized listing of direct... _Mama, this is ridiculous. Isn't there someone who can translate this for me or something? Lissan, even Nix knows more about this stuff than I do. At least he's had some semblance of training!"

She shook her head with a laugh, patting my back as she stood up.

"You will learn, my darling," she said, practically skipping out of the study, and I placed my head in my hands, feeling terribly overwhelmed.

What was I going to do now?


	4. Princess Princess

A/N: A bajillion thanks to my beta Captain Fantastic for taking away the awkwardness. You're the bizzle.

R&R, lovvies. -Livvy

* * *

While financial affairs had always been of great interest to me, what had never been attractive was the pomp and circumstance which inevitably followed-- of the two of us, Nixil had always been the one blessed with social graces.

Before, it had been easy-- my parents could simply shove me in a corner, unadorned and unrecognizable with a ledger and a dinner plate. They had often feigned my sickness, apologizing to (mostly) false well-wishers as they mingled, shooting me reproachful glances when they thought I wasn't looking. Now though, due to my newly elevated status, it seemed foregoing the festivities would not be an option.

Standing there, staring at my change screen, whalebones digging into my sides with every breath, I was angrier at my father than I'd ever been. Only yesterday my father had told me about this '_celebration of trade relations'_, practically tossing this hellishly tight dress at me.

My mother would have killed him.

"I'm sorry, Razia-- I just have to tie this a little bit tighter... we're almost done..."

"No, Kate, it's fine, I understand."

_I will not get mad. I will not get mad. I will not get--_

"Ach!"

"_Done!" _Kate stepped back, grinning.

"There, Razia. You're all finished. I don't know why you always make such a fuss; you look quite stunning." She clapped her hands cheerily, and I sighed, attempting to get comfortable in the swirling turquoise death trap.

The dark blue band crossing my chest cramped my shoulder, and I was positive I that was going to trip over the 'ruched Brun silk, darling' that my mother had fawned over, but Kate was right. I did look quite pretty, damn it all-- there would be no chance of simply staying in a corner and letting the frolicking pass by.

There was a series of insistent raps on my door-- my mother, of course-- I sighed, sharing an exasperated look with Kate.

"Yes, mother?" I wrenched the ancient door open to see her angry visage, resplendent and furious in the dark Cabot Green.

"Don't _yes_ me like that, Razia. You were supposed to be out fifteen minutes ago."

"I'm sorry, Mama, but this... contraption you've put me in is ridiculous-- it took Kate almost half an hour to lace it up!"

"And I'm sure it would have cut the time in half and made poor Kate's job twice as easy if you'd stayed still."

"But--"

"Just be quiet, Razia, and come down with me. Kate, dear, that's all we'll need till after the engagement."

"Lissan be with you, Madam, and many thanks." Kate bowed respectfully, and I shot her a look as I left the room behind my statuesque mother. I sighed, resigned, as Mama listed off last minute tips on etiquette.

"Help me, Lissan," I muttered, glancing at the stone bricks above me. "Help me."

* * *

There were people everywhere-- dancing, laughing, dressed in their absolute best, I was sure. I watched them mingle, looking sideways; most likely hoping that Mama would comment on their clothes or Papa on their wit.

I didn't like this; the people my father had invited were odd, especially when considering that this was supposed to be based on trade relations. He had invited delegates from every country, but almost all were relatively young (and quite handsome), and the meaningful looks he kept giving me puzzled me thoroughly. Now that I had assented to be his successor, he had no reason to marry me off; according to Cabot tradition, I would have to go live with my husband. In turn, Nixil would be the only one able to rule after him, a position both Nixil and my father adamantly resisted. Unless my father was planning to marry Nixil off to one of these men instead of me, my dear Papa was up to something that would definitely not bode well for me.

I sighed, wishing Nixil was here instead of off hunting-- he'd know what Father was up to. I picked up a tea cake, chewing absentmindedly, but my stomach was compressed by the ruffled blue nightmare. I felt a strong urge to throw up, and I walked to the nearest chair, sitting down immediately.

"Are you finished already, Princess? Pity-- I was going to ask you to dance." I turned around, confused, but I couldn't see anyone. I shook my head, turning back to the elegantly adorned table. I jumped in surprise.

"Who are you?" It was a bit rude of me, perhaps, but I didn't care. He had just made me look like a complete idiot in front of more than a hundred people, and I was already feeling none too charitable.

"I believe we were briefly introduced earlier this evening-- too briefly, it seems, if you have forgotten me already."

I looked at him for a moment; he was quite good-looking, with the bright blue eyes and rolling vowels characteristic of the Brun people to our Northeast. His clothes were well-made-- but then again, Brun was a rich country. I sighed, and he grinned at me.

"Are you finished trying to figure me out, Princess?"

I almost nodded, but as my head went down to admit defeat, I noticed the small insignia drawn on his ankle. My eyes flew up, triumphant.

"My good Prince Yuil of Brun, I'm wounded. How could you think I had forgotten your illustrious self?" I couldn't help smirking, and he laughed, holding out his hand.

"I apologize for my lack of faith, Princess. Dance?" I shook my head no, but he jerked his head to where I knew my parents sat, eyeing us, and I groaned.

"One dance, Miss Razia, and I will not tell the Great Madam." His grin was infectious, and I found myself on the newly swept tiles before I knew it. Prince Yuil was an excellent dancer.

"I can't dance, you know." I looked up between step sets, and he laughed again, a deep rich laugh that sounded as if it came from within his very bones.

"Lies, Princess. I believe what you mean is 'I _won't _dance.' After all, dancing is an essential part of training for our kind, is it not?" He spoke with such an easy cadence that he could have sentenced me to death and I would have laughed and danced all the way to the chopping block.

Lissan, this was getting ridiculous.

"How much longer is this dance?" I asked, and he frowned slightly.

"Am I so boring that you would want to get rid of me so quickly?" I shook my head hastily.

"No, of course not-- I'm simply tired. Today was long, and I was more than ready to go to bed _before _this started, quite honestly."

And the grin was back.

"Then this lovely Princess would not mind so much if I called on her tomorrow? Our party will be staying to negotiate with your father's advisors, and I would quite like some company."

I hesitated. I couldn't think of any reason not to accept Yuil's offer-- that by itself made me want to refuse-- but he was handsome and light-tempered, and if anything it would hold off those dreadful lessons for a few days more. The music was about to stop, and our feet slowed. I would have to make a decision soon.

"I won't be ready before nine-thirty," I said feebly, and he smiled broadly, letting go of my hand as we slowed to a halt right before the entranceway.

"I will see you tomorrow morning at nine fourty-five then, Princess. Madam," he said, inclining his head at an unseen entity behind me before making a quiet exit.

I drew in a breath, readying myself for my mother's questioning, and sure enough, she had her (quite infamous) eyebrow up expectantly.

I couldn't keep myself from smiling when I told her I wouldn't be at lessons.


	5. Glass Fleet

Yuil became a regular figure around the castle, roaming around while his father conducted business with mine, and I was starting to like him.

A lot.

He was quite charming, that much had been evident from our first encounter-- but he was also kind and generous, with an ear for music and an eye for art. He liked hunting, hawking, and fishing (which, of course, immediately endeared him to Nixil) and even tolerated my mother when she began her long speeches on the advantages of Mylan buttons over Stoyish (which is better than I, personally: I usually run away exasperated, they're exactly the same-- just two different types of tortoise). He was perfect.

Almost a little too perfect.

I wasn't going to deny it, I was still suspicious. Unlike most men I met, he had absolutely no interest in my father or any of the royal affairs-- and really, that simply _doesn't_ happen if you're interested in a princess. Even more interesting was the fact that said father often cropped up in odd places, and not to check up on us and chaperone and do such fatherly things, no; he would simply grin and nod, with an oddly satisfied, sickening smile on his face as he walked away.

Now, I love my father, I do, and I trust him.

Sort of.

Ok, that's a lie. I don't. But what did he want, and how could my burgeoning relationship with Yuil possibly assist him? These thoughts had been growing louder and louder every day--they were beginning to poison my pleasant moments with Yuil, and I was getting positively furious about it, in all honesty.

Inspiration suddenly struck, and I walked toward the Palace cloakroom, glad I hadn't spoken to Yuil yet today.

Grandmother-- my father's mother, she had always been the knowledgeable one. She, having, oh, given _birth_ to my father, would know what was going on in his brain-- and it would be perfectly acceptable in my parents' minds for me to take an excursion to see her, _commendable_, even.

And so, fastening my red traveling cloak and congratulating myself on my cleverness, I slipped out the back door and into the Woods.

In hindsight, not the most intelligent of choices.

* * *

Wendell was furious. He had told his father-- to his face, sat him down and straight-eye-to-eye _told_ him that the king would not help.

"_He will help us for the sake of us needing it, for our helplessness,"_ he said. "_Do not worry, my son."_

Wendell, of course, had worried, _of course Wendell had worried_, because he knew, just _knew_ the king wouldn't help.

He was not surprised.

*******************

_"I know, Your Highness, that you are unconcerned. The elves are a people that keep to themselves-- we strive to be peaceful, at one with the world around us and those who share it. However, Lissan has granted us the misfortune that we all dread-- a great drought fell upon us for a number of years. We have used our resources, rationed as much as possible and reserved what we could. But our careful precautions did not foresee what Lissan has decided to put in our path-- we must ask for your aid. We do not ask for much-- not arms, nor men, or water. Simply food to get us through another year, perhaps two, if the drought continues and disease continues to blight our harvests. We are at your mercy."_

Wendell was proud of his plea, then-- it was everything it needed to be, wordy and humble and only hinting at demanding, even bringing their deity into it for good measure! To his credit, the king looked conflicted, pausing before he spoke-- Wendell had expected an immediate refusal-- but he could tell by the monarch's tone that they would recieve no assistance by this sector.

_"I am sorry, boy. My own people, in my own cities, their own food is running out-- there are towns of Cabot where you live, too. As much as I would like to help you and your people, young one, I cannot. You are of royal stock too, boy-- a man can tell, true blood to true blood. You can understand my dilemma, and therefore, I'm sure, my choice. You may take back as much as you can carry on your own and one other horse, as well as one or two sheep, if you like. I do not know the size of your village, my son, and I know that this little will not help much, but it is all I can spare. Take it with the blessing of Lissan; may the rains come soon."_

It was actually a very eloquent refusal; the scholar in Wendell admired the king's articulation. An odd thing to be looking at, perhaps, at a time like this; but it's irrelevance seemed to be the essence of its allure. He shook his head lightly, turning back to his task of gathering wood, kindling mostly-- he needed to start a fire for the night. He had, of course, been offered a place to stay at the castle, but had refused it. Besides the awkwardness of it all, elves did generally like the outdoors.

It was getting dark-- he glared at the retreating sun, hastily grabbing what wood he could to add to the diminutive pile in his arms and carried it to his campsite, where he had tied up his horse, along with the horse and several sheep that had been granted him.

Suddenly, just as he lit the fire and was about to sit, he was bowled over by a blur of red flannel.

Made slightly more colourful by the fact that the said blur (person?) was now on fire.


	6. Haunted Junction

"GAH!" Oh Lissan Lissan Lissan HELP ME! I'm too young to die, I have things to do, kingdoms to run, people to see! I felt hands run down my back, and I screamed even louder.

"Will you shut up, girl, I'm trying to save your life. Take off your cloak if you want to live!"

Normally, I would yell at him. No one talks to me like that. Ever.

Except when I'm in danger of burning to death; I suppose I can make an exception.

I clutched at the brooch on my neck, yanking at it desperately. The cloak was supposed to be fireproof, but only to so much- I could feel and smell my hair burning, the heat making its way to my dress. Panic overwhelmed me and all intelligence flew out the proverbial window.

"_OH LISSAN_! Help me, _help me,_ pl_ease_ sir!" I had no more sense left in me, only a running commentary of _Oh dear, Oh No, Oh SHIT! I'm going to die, I'm going to die, I'm going to-_

The next thing I knew, I was on the ground, being yanked every which way. Finally, after forever, the heat subsided, and I undid the cloak's clasp with trembling fingers, barely able to sit up.

There was a man there, staring at me- not much older, by the lack of lines, and not very wealthy, if his clothes were any indicator. He was wiry, with, despite his current state of anger, what looked like a kind face.

"Are. You. _STUPID_?"

I blinked, unable to fathom the words that had just left his lips. Had he really... no. I had been mistaken, perhaps.

"I'm _sorry?"_

There are two things people learn when they come to the palace. A) My brother likes to dance around with very little clothing on from the hours of twelve to two in the morning, and B) Never, ever call me stupid. You can call me fat, say I have terrible fashion, claim that I've slept with every one of your family members, I really could care less; but call me stupid and the claws come out.

"I said, 'Are you STUPID?"

"How _dare _you call me stupid! I am Princess Razia, daughter of King Sangara (may Lissan forever guide him) and the Great Madam Aine (Lissan be with her), the heir to the throne, and I will _not allow you to cast aspersions on my intelligence!"_

Now, in my defense, I was furious.

When I'm that angry, I tend to forget things. Like the number one rule of being a princess traveling alone is A) Don't- well, really, it's don't get caught. So B) is is you get found, or captured DON'T TELL PEOPLE WHO YOU ARE.

**_Ever._**

As I realized what this man could now do, my anger evaporated and a slow fear ebbed its way in.

"See, now, I really think you're stupid." He smirked, and I glared back, defensive.

"Well, what are you doing? You're in father's forest, and no one's allowed to do so unless they are either a member of the royal court _or _a guest of the king himself, may Lissan forever guide him!"

His eyes flashed, a grey, deep grey, the most beautiful colour I'd ever seen; but before I'd barely even noticed, it was gone.

"Are you required to talk about the king like that?"

I blinked, taken aback.

"You haven't answered my question," I said, straightening my back- but he shook his head.

"I'm pretty sure you're not in a place to be asking questions right now. So, I repeat: are you required to talk about the king- your father- like that?"

"Like what?"

"With the afterthought. The 'may Lissan forever' whatsit, you did it earlier, and with your mother, too. Is that a requirement?"

I laughed.

"Well, no, not a _requirement_, I suppose, but common sense itself. In your land, do you not wish your monarchs to be guided and protected by Lissan?"

He cocked his head to the side.

"Where I come from, we do not feel the need to say so every time we say his name."

His eyes flashed again, and I looked down quickly, attempting to break the gaze; an unnatural pulse shot through the grass. I whipped my head back up. "What was that?"

"Nothing," he said, but there was the eye flash again, and, frightened, I looked down to see a strange glow coming from my feet, and I screamed.

"Princess? Princess, is that you?"

Nixil's best friend Armand, the Head Guard- this was NOT good news. I looked at the strange man in front of me and nodded my head sharply.

"Well, sir, that'll be the guards, you know... Lots of them will be looking for me, so I'll just... ahem... leave. It was nice to meet you, and have this chat, and thank you, in any case, for saving my life. So I'll just be on...my...way..."

I could tell, just by looking at him, that this man was not to be feared- but the look he gave me frightened me to my very core.

"So sorry, my Princess," he said with a slow grin. "But your way won't have anything to do with those guards for quite some time."

His eyes flashed again, but for longer this time, and strange words came out of his mouth in a voice that was not his own. My heart began to beat faster and I raised my hand, opened my mouth, ready to scream for Armand to save me- when an indescribable feeling swept over me.

All went black.


End file.
